Residuum
by Commander Zia
Summary: 100 drabbles on life after the Fourth Great Shinobi War. Written for the 100 Themes Challenge.
1. Introduction

_**A/N:**__ Yeah, yeah, I have a thing for fun words. Thesaurus . com is my best friend. Residuum (ri-zij-oo-uhm) means 'the residue, remainder, or rest of something'._

_And sorry to you guys looking forward to more Sentinel. I know I'm only 2 chapters in, but I've discovered I can't write a single story for any amount of time without _something_ to fall back on. I have a short attention span. So here we go. Based off the recent Naruto chapters, sort of, a set of **100 themes** post-war drabbles._

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**1. Introduction**

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They all stand there, every single last one of them that isn't too injured to limp their way out there, and it's still a meager assembly, only a couple hundred human fighting machines, more lost than they've ever been. There are other meetings like this, of course, but they pay homage separately, it's easier this way. Every village has a way, and every village has a sense of privacy. But this is how Konoha mourns, and they do so quietly, under the bright yellow-orange sun mocking them from above the burned skeletons of trees.

Of all the people to make the opening speech it's that Hyuuga boy, the genius one, but somehow it feels fitting. War has changed them all, and it shows more than most in his face, heavy with sleep and delicately tear-streaked and melancholy in a way most shinobi would, under normal circumstances, find near criminal.

The famed jinchuuriki couldn't make it to the memorial, but they feel him there, in the air around him. A few stayed back with him in the hospital, like that one academy teacher, vigil by his comatose almost-corpse, but for the most part everyone is present. Everyone that can be.

"You all know why we're here today," Hyuuga Neji begins, in a voice that flutters like butterfly wings, and not in a good way. His two teammates stand beside him, up at the front, by the blank slate of stone three feet tall and two feet across. It would have been impractical to write everyone's name down, hundreds upon hundreds died, so instead they simply carved into the stone 'To all the warriors who gave their lives for their village' and left it at that. Somehow, it seems even sadder this way.

"I've tried to think of something inspirational to say," Neji continued. "Something to help you all through this, to make it all feel worth it. But I- I'm a shinobi. It's as simple as that." His words ring true, and they all understand. They are shinobi, not poets. They are shinobi, not optimists, or romantics, or idealists. They are shinobi. "Nothing can make this easier. To try and make it easier would only dishonor their memory. But they gave their lives for their cause willingly, as we were all prepared to do. We should try to remember this, and carry on the spirit of Konoha in their honor."

No one doubts that the words were clunky, that the prose was rough, but no one doubts that they were true.

The brunette beside him breaks into tears softly, she walks away quickly and blends into the crowd of black and neither of her teammates try and stop her, she doesn't like showing emotion, none of them do.

The two boys down in front hold hands really tight, like they're five again, back when they still called bugs 'creepy' and dogs 'dirty' and played on the swingset until the sun went away and their parents had to drag them back home. But that feels like eons ago, now.

But that feels just like yesterday.

The pink-haired medic stares at the slate with this blank sort of frown on her face, she twiddles the flowers in her fingers slowly. Her best friend had given her the flowers just an hour ago but already the stems are frayed, the petals are half missing. She can't stop playing with them, in her fingers as she waits. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me not. He loved me never.

And in the back row the black-haired man stares carefully into the distance, trying not to think so hard. His keeper sits beside him, staring into his hands, but he's no distraction, there's this troubled look on his face even worse than that day back then, when their sensei had passed.

For once the clouds above the trees just look like clouds, and it's as simple as that.

Back in the hospital the blonde continues to sleep. Beside him his mentor and father is dozing off, so worn out he doesn't notice the jinchuuriki moaning in his sleep.

So exhausted he doesn't even notice as his blue eyes snap open, and he starts to cry.


	2. Love

_**A/N:**__ Love Kakashi. Love Gai. Love angst. 'Nough said. More indirectly related to the theme this time, just use your imagination. (This, btw, is what I hope happens in canon. Kakashi can never have peace without death, and Gai can't exist without Kakashi. Come on Kishi, you've come this far~!)_

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**2. Love**

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"Hey Sakura! On your left!"

The pinkette turns just in time to catch the kunai streaking past her, just in time to dodge. The blade still grazes her cheek, the skin splits like soft butter and red drips out slightly, but it's the kind of wound that'll only sting, it probably won't even scar.

"Thanks Lee." She flashes him a quick, reassuring smile before jumping back in against the dead army, although it sounds as though she may be trying to comfort herself more than the taijutsuist, who at the moment is swinging around so fast he's a blur, a blur of green and orange and red.

"You've trained him well." Kakashi comments smoothly as he dodges yet another flurry of kunai. Apparently controlling an entire army by mind control left little room for individual personality or creativity. They could kick, and punch, and throw things, and on occasion, use a basic jutsu. Of course, they were also sort of immortal. Just a little bit.

"It's all Lee." Gai said just as calmly from ten or so feet away, although he is more out of breath, as like his student he's spent his time pashing heads and using taijutsu to get ahead, wherever he can. He's never been good at jutsu, not to say that he's bad, but he'd always lose training fights with Kakashi unless they were putting their taijutsu head to head. In that case, even Kakashi couldn't win. But he wasn't Konoha's Green Beast for nothing.

"Yes, of course." Kakashi acknowledged. The only one of his students whom he'd actually formed in any way had been Sasuke, and that hadn't quite turned out how he'd planned it.

"He's the one who trained all those hours, who took all that abuse-" Gai's voice broke off as the man was thrown back, and Kakashi momentarily lost sight of him. Thirty blurred seconds, however, and the green slipped its way back into view, just a little dirtier than before.

"Gai, what's wrong?" Kakashi asked almost jokingly. "Not getting sappy, are you?"

"Me?" Gai asked, and Kakashi only realized then, somehow, that the smile plastered on the jounin's face wasn't his normal, carefree smile. "Never."

"Gai…" Kakashi paused for a moment to stare over at his longtime friend, nuisance, bother, but even as he did he tensed, knew he'd made a terrible mistake.

And then the world blurs, and the Kakashi's shoved back and he slams into the ground so hard his bones ache. But he stands as fast as he can, brings his hands up to the defensive.

He expected to see one of those dead corpse warriors, maybe.

Or Sakura, or Lee, maybe they were saving each other again, they seemed to do that a lot, they worked well as a team.

Maybe he didn't expect to see anything at all.

"Gai!" Kakashi scrambled to his feet, ran forward, blood soaks his fingers as he catches the man.

Gai's face is white as a sheet, his eyes wide as if he can't believe it either.

"Oops." Gai whispers weakly, making a goofy sort of apologetic face up at him. "I forgot, I was supposed to die after you. Sorry."

Kakashi might be crying.

Maybe.

But all he can see is Obito,

Minato,

Gai's little smiling innocent ten year old face, his smooth hand reached out in a greeting he never accepted.

All he can see is red.

Kakashi can't remember moving, he can't remember fighting, he can't remember dying.

All he can remember is the horrified expression on Sakura's face, as for the first time in his life, he managed to be a good sensei.


End file.
